


Iridescent Throat

by Poemsingreenink



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Tumblr: mag7week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: Lost in the Chicago Loop in freezing weather Billy and Goodnight take refuge in a place they will probably never find again.





	Iridescent Throat

**Author's Note:**

> Mag7Week day 5: 'Supernatural'

They go out, because they didn't want to stay in.

All things considered it wasn't their best idea.

"It smells like chocolate out here," Goodnight said. He lifted his head, and sniffed the icy air like a basset hound.  "Why does it smell like chocolate out here? No self-respecting city I have ever been in smells like a confectionary."

Billy was too busy leaping from one snow drift to the next to answer. He landed up to his hips in freshly fallen snow, and then glared at the rest of the sidewalk. Ahead, the snow was piled even higher. If they wanted to move forward they'd have to walk in the street.

The sunlight was bright, bouncing off the glass and steel that covered every block of the Chicago Loop. The La Salle Street Bridge was just ahead, and thick twisted icicles dangled from the maroon colored metal like unearthed tree roots. The sunlight was a trick, considering that the temperature was hovering somewhere around 1 or 2 degrees, and Goodnight could already feel his lips becoming chapped and bloody under the scarf he'd wound around his face. The choice of an orange Chicago Bear's baseball cap had also been a misstep on his part. He should have gone with the heavy knit option, but he'd wanted to wear it again once they abandoned this god forsaken place for warmer parts. God he hated the winter.

It was also strangely silent. He'd yet to see another person fighting their way through last night's snowfall, and only the occasional car. He'd been led to believe that Chicagoans were made of stronger stuff than that.

"I can't fee my toes," Billy announced. "Can we go back to the hotel?"

Their hotel was several blocks back and even more blocks over, and if Billy's toes were already numb they might not survive the journey. Goodnight was pretty fond of Billy's toes, and didn't like the idea of leaving them behind in the arctic tundra of the Chicago Loop. For all he knew they were about to turn the corner and run into a polar bear. Bears were smart. One or two of them might have relocated when the melting ice caps got bad.

"Cher, how about we stop somewhere to warm up first?" Goodnight suggested. 

"Where," Billy huffed. "Nothing is open!"

This had been another puzzling discovery. Sunday morning, bright and early in the third largest city in America, and not even the damn Starbucks was open.

Goodnight inspected their surroundings. The snow glittered like crushed crystal, and his breath warmed when it puffed against the woven knit of his scarf. That was when he spotted a bright gathering of cotton candy colored hair. The mess of pink hair was bundled atop the head of a woman who looked younger than Goodnight, but old enough that the choice of hair color was a little unorthodox.

She'd just left the bridge, and was crossing the street as quickly as her long, puffy winter coat allowed.

Goodnight shaded his eyes, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight, and was blinking spots out of his gaze by the time he found her again. She'd stopped in front of a long, thin door made of pale, green, glass. The door opened, and she disappeared inside.

Goodnight slogged his way through the snow, grabbed Billy by the elbow and began to pull him across the street.

"Found something!"

Billy allowed himself to be led.

It didn't look like a store entrance. A tall pan of glass set into a wall of red brick didn't look like an anything entrance, but that was half the charm of cities. So many people shoved into tiny nooks and crevices meant that sometimes people could be found in the oddest of mouse holes. It made Goodnight want to scream, and then hit the highway until he could be assured that there were no buildings within 100 miles.

He didn't bother knocking. Sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. The moment they stepped into the dimly lit hall they were wrapped in a warm, humid heat, and he knew he'd made the right choice.

The door swung silently closed behind them, and Goodnight sighed in relief. Unwinding his scarf from about his face, he turned to see Billy shoving his hat into his coat pocket, and quickly rubbing his hands together.

The floor and walls were made of a pale, beer colored wood, and the ceiling was low. Plants in baskets were hanging in the corners, and the smell of snow and chocolate had been replaced by the damp smell of earth and water.

"Hello!" Goodnight called out. "Excuse me?"

He started down the hall and motioned for Billy to follow. "Madam? Or sir? We don't mean to intrude, but we were wondering if we could just rest in your-" he paused and looked to Billy, who shrugged and mouthed the word 'bath house?' to Goody.

Goodnight ignored that suggestion and went with "-store. Until we've warmed up."

"Or called an Uber," Billy muttered. 

A small shape darted through the air. It fluttered in front of Goodnight's face, and for a moment he wondered if he was still seeing spots from his stare into the sun earlier.

A ruby throated hummingbird hovered just in front of Goodnight's nose. Its tiny wings were beating a blur on either side of its small green body, and it hovered for a second before moving higher and out of Goodnight's view.

"What-?"

"He's trying to drink from your hat," Billy said.

Goodnight felt something poke through one of the hat's eyelets.

Billy laughed. "Don't move! Do you feel that?"

Goodnight stood ramrod straight. "No? What's happening? What's it doing?"

"Now he's sitting on the brim of your hat! He looks so fucking confused! You broke him!" Billy cackled. "You can't feel that at all?"

"I'd be surprised if he could, hummingbirds don't weight more than a nickel."

Goodnight lifted his eyes to see the woman they'd followed inside. She was a short with dark brown skin, and a pair of round turquoise glasses framing a pair of inquiring brown eyes. Her coat was gone, replaced by a tan apron tied over a plain black shirt and blue jeans.

The hummingbird darted back down the hall, and hovered happily around her cloud of pink curls. Three other birds joined him, all darting and moving around one another. 

Goodnight quickly took his hat off, and shoved all of his charm into a winning smile.

"Good morning, miss. We apologize for intruding, but we were moments away from freezing to death, and nothing in your beautiful city seems to be open."

Three of the now five hummingbirds, an extra one having just zipped around the corner, flew up to the ceiling, and then dive bombed toward the floor in a move that made Goodnight feel dizzy.

"We're just hoping you'll let us warm up for a few moments. We can call an Uber, and be out of your hair in no time at all."

She tilted her head, taking him in. Her glasses were perfectly round, and gave Goody the impression of an owl inspecting a mouse. Then her eyes jumped to Billy, and a smile crept over her face.

Two of the hummingbirds had decided that fluttering around Billy was a marvelous idea. Billy wasn't a man to be easily charmed, but apparently the sight of a tiny, jewel colored creature zipping around his face and hair was doing the trick because here he was smiling in front of a stranger.

"If I put my hand out will he land on it?" Billy asked.

Goodnight looked expectantly at the woman at the end of the hall.

"She," the woman corrected. "And probably not. She might be trying to fight you right now actually. You're contender for that big orange flower she can't drink out of."

She motioned to Goodnight's hat which he'd started twisting in his hands at some point in the conversation. He made himself stop. 

Billy looked _delighted_ at this information. "She wants to fight me?"

The woman grinned. "They're hummingbirds. Hummingbirds are tiny balls of anger with feathers." She lifted her glasses up to rub the bridge of her nose. "Okay, you can stay, but your phone won't work here. I can call you a cab. Follow me."

Goodnight nodded vigorously. "We'd also of course purchase anything if this-that is if there's anything here that you sell?"

She stared at them, and then blinked rapidly several times. "No, nothing here is for sale. This is the nursery. The sales are made elsewhere."

She turned away, and her collection of hummingbirds darted after her. "You can call me Bianca. I'm Bianca."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Miss Bianca," Goodnight said, and followed her down the hall.

Billy, still enchanted, had turned to walk backwards so he could keep the birds in his sights.

"I like these," he told Goodnight.

Goodnight reached over, and gave his still icy hand a squeeze.

"Make sure I don't run into a wall," Billy said without turning around.

"Okay, cher. Whatever you want."

**********

The hummingbird cloud seemed to lose and gain members with every new step they took, but Goodnight was at a loss for where the tiny things were going or where they were coming from.

Billy'd finally turned to walk like a man who wasn't daring the world to give him a concussion, but the little bastards still held all of his attention. It left Goodnight to rubber neck the rest of the sights.

They passed down a hallway of closed glass doors, some of them fogged over with condensation, some as clear as a wide open Texas sky. Behind each were plants. One was covered by large, glossy green palm leaves so numerous they plastered themselves against the door. Behind another was a rainbow of different colored flowers and in another an explosion of only fuchsia.

The air grew warmer as they walked, and Goodnight actually rolled up his shirt sleeves as the heat bundle up and discarded the cold that had settled in his bones.

They turned right, and onto a new hall that was identical to the last. This time, as Goodnight glanced through the doors, he started to see trees. They passed saplings wrapped in burlap behind one door, palm trees in planters in another. There was even a room full of bonsai's set up on long work benches where two people, a young man with a neat beard and a woman with flame colored hair gently tended them.

The further down the hall they traveled the larger the trees behind the glass seemed to grow, and the hotter the air became. It was as though Goodnight was breathing water it was so humid, and the sharp change in temperature made his thoughts feel syrupy and slow.

The tree trunks got wider, the leaves thicker, the roots more prominent, and through the heavy condensation of one of the doors Goodnight could swear he saw a tree as large as a red wood. He stopped, and moved to press his nose against the glass.

Something was glittering in the boughs of those impossibly tall trees in this small city space. Goodnight squinted, and tilted his head from side-to-side trying to get a better look. The floor on the other side of the glass was dark. As though made entirely of fresh earth. The branches of the tree stretched tall and wide, and several something's the size of Goodnight's fist dangled from the branches. It was a hazy, diaphanous sight through the door, and Goodnight found his hand resting on the handle, ready to push it open and explore.

A hummingbird practically slammed into his face. He jumped away from the door with a yelp, and wondered exactly what he was supposed to do if the bird decided to go for his eyes.

Billy appeared at his shoulder.

"Are they trying to fight you too?" He asked fondly.

The bird zipped away, and Goodnight huffed. Annoyed with himself. He knew better than to wander around strange places.

Goodnight smiled. "If we had a house. I'd suggest we buy a hummingbird feeder so you can collect your own little squad."

Billy smiled back, and then reached his thumb out to press into Goodnight's lower lip. It stung, and Goodnight stuck is tongue out to taste coppery blood.

"Your lip is bleeding."

"I'll get some Vaseline at the hotel," Goodnight promised. He glanced at Billy's hands which were so dry and chapped that they looked painful. "Looks like we can both use it."

Abandoning the door, Goodnight reached over to hold Billy's hand. At Billy's curious look, they were rarely this demonstrative in public or with strangers, he shrugged.

"If I'm holding your hand it'll keep me from sticking my nose places it doesn't belong." 

Billy raised an eyebrow. "That has not been my experience with you."

******

Bianca led them to a small, clean kitchen where a round wooden table and four mismatching chairs were waiting. She offered them a box of tea bags to pick from, and put a kettle on the stove before reaching for an avocado green rotary phone that hung from the wall.

She spoke softly, twisting the chord around her fingers as she called for a ship to take Billy and Goodnight back to their temporary home. Billy fastidiously dug through the tea offerings, eventually coming up with a ginger lemon for himself and mint for Goodnight.

The hummingbirds abandoned them, and when the kettle was ready and the call completed Bianca made herself a cup, and they drank in silence.

The air was clearer here, and Goodnight mulled over what he'd seen in the dark hallways of this odd little place. His mind felt sharp now, but everything that had taken place a few moments ago felt muddled and dreamlike. He wished the birds had decided to stay since even the idea of this many hummingbirds zipping around felt ridiculous, and their physical presents would have helped ground him.

When the cab arrived, and mugs were discarded. He shook Bianca's hand and thanked her again. Billy did the same, and they braved the Chicago freeze with their minds fixed firmly on their room, and their warm bed. 

As the city passed by outside cab's salt-streaked window, Goodnight thought about writing Sam an email when they got back. This would be an odd little story to tell, but those had always been Sam's favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> -The Chicago Loop does on occasion smell like chocolate thanks to the Blommer Chocolate Factory. So if you ever smell that you are not having a stroke. You're fine. 
> 
> -For whatever bizzaro reason absolutely nothing is open early...or sometimes at all on Sunday in the Chicago Loop (Maybe McDonalds). Also, the Chicago Bears are Chicago's football team and their colors are orange and navy blue. 
> 
> -Hummingbirds are the physical embodiment of "I'm not going to fight them. Except that I am." 
> 
> -I don't know if any of you have seen this clip of a hummingbird trying to drink from a hat, but it's my new favorite thing. That is the face of a broken hummingbird: https://youtu.be/FxTxaOlkJxU
> 
> -Bianca's nursery does not exist, and they will never find it again.


End file.
